Red Miasma

A curious sight of black and white
A spitting, hitting bunch of nerves
femme fatale feline screaming hoarse
obscenities over the white noise of
broken bottles, emptied crates and
a drunken menace.

Some arcane ritual in the dead of
night. Demon glaze the eyeballs red
a miasma mist that once seemed too
sane. A futile trap, nonetheless
the gaudy rouge, the ragged breath
the streaks of red in her ragged hair
the strumming lights, like some
clairvoyant eye, seeks to prophesise
some divine wonder. Yet fails to see
the flecks of red, mutilated, that left it

Blind and staring.


Copyright Β© 2014 Antelune. All Rights Reserved.


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